Mystery

Tina Inherits the House
“Nick? It’s Walter.” We both froze. “Just a minute, Walter.” Nick turned to me. “Let me handle this alone. Trust me.” He walked over to the door. Walter knocked again, and Nick opened it almost as soon as he stopped. Walter began to push his way into the apartment, but Nick put out a strong hand and pushed him back.
By Gordon DeLand4 years ago in Fiction
Tina Inherits the House
Chapter One In the July sunshine, the house didn’t look haunted. From the description in the letter, I expected a run-down, overgrown, spooky mansion. What met my eyes as I came around the corner was a large, white house with large, sparkling windows and a flower garden that filled the front yard and then swept around to the huge side yard away from the neighbors. If this is a haunted house, she thought, I’m a headless horseman!
By Gordon DeLand4 years ago in Fiction
Down By The Bay
The gravel crunched beneath the tires as Lovey pulled up to the house. The girls had been looking forward to this weekend all summer, and Lovey was so happy to spend some time with her two best friends before going off to college. "Let's get this party started!" Jen screamed in excitement as she stepped out of the car.
By Natassia Lawrence4 years ago in Fiction
The Man of Her Dreams
Let me introduce myself, she said to the rear view mirror as once again she drove home from work in a snow storm. Hi, my a name is Loretta and I’m crazy. I must be! Who else but a crazy woman would sell her comfortable home ten minutes from her job as head accountant and buy another one an hour away? Make that an hour in good weather. Tonight it would be closer to an hour and a half, barring an accident. What was I thinking? I must have been crazy then, even if I’m not crazy now!
By Gordon DeLand4 years ago in Fiction
A Serial Killer in the Hollywood Hills
Tony Nouzo sat down at her desk to start another day of freelance blogging about celebrities for the Hollywood Herald. She's a slight, mousy-looking girl, late 20-something and wearing frumpy, loose fitting clothes, mostly in darker colors.
By Reid Moore4 years ago in Fiction
The Diner
Deliveries were a charade in the mornings and sometimes late at noon. Restaurants opened at 11am and only a few opened at 9.
By Samuel Okonkwo4 years ago in Fiction
Graveside
I sit and watch the piece of granite that’s supposed to represent her. Somehow it’s supposed to make me believe she’s still around somewhere. Maybe it’s just supposed to remind me of how much I miss her, but I sure as hell don’t need a reminder of that.
By Jaci Schreckengost4 years ago in Fiction
The Expedition
It was the opportunity of a lifetime to be selected as a scientist to join the Shabok Expedition in the Antarctic. I’d worked hard and had earned my place on the team, even though others disagreed. As the only woman on board, I was nervous.
By Ali SP4 years ago in Fiction
The Power of Suggestion
"Mr. Kincade, the fact that you’re willing and able to pay my fee doesn’t mean I’ll automatically be willing to take your case. I only take cases I think I can solve. You haven’t given me much to work with.
By Dave Ruskjer4 years ago in Fiction
A crime against me!
A crime against me! No peace for the wicked In my experience, those who beg for mercy seldom deserve it. The guy lying at my feet was Caucasian, about twenty years old, but looked forty, he was dirty and dressed in rags but he had several thousand pounds in his pockets. Several thousand of my pounds. He begged for mercy but got nothing, I was surprised he even knew the word, his entire miserable drug riddled apology for a life he had been in the gutter. Addicted at twelve years old he had fed his habit with every sort of sordid degradation known to man. He had stolen from me and expected mercy? Where was his home planet? I put my gloved hand into his torn jacket pocket and retrieved my cash, well most of it he had only had time to shoot up about ten bags so less that a few hundred had gone. His life ended much as I guess it began, in a cold dark damp back alley that smelt like a rubbish heap. There were no cameras here no prying eyes, no care in any eyes that were about at that time of the night. He was lucky, his pain was over, this mortal life so twisted in values, so desperate yet without a single spark of light or comfort, had ended. He should have been as glad as I was. I walked from the alley back to my car and drove away without putting on the lights, until I was into the main road, now there was not any way to connect me to that alley and the body that lay there.
By Peter Rose4 years ago in Fiction
A Heavy Conscience
Lawrence woke up to the sound of the wind howling, the fireplace smoking, his papers ruffled and spilling all over. Over the sink, he glanced at his face in the mirror and grimaced. Below his eye, obscured by a few days’ growth, a purple-blue bruise blossomed angrily. He ran a finger over it gingerly, the skin tender and sore, and pulled a face before snatching his coat and rushing out into the street.
By Lisa Vane4 years ago in Fiction
Morningstar
C h a p t e r One A Decision Made A silent breeze can be comforting one moment, then bring fears and storms the next. Sound is a better harbinger of peace for a motherless child, and what better to fill the void of quiet than the melody of a Celtic bagpipe?
By Ondi Laure4 years ago in Fiction